


The Greater Grief

by florence (lawboy1983)



Category: The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Gen, M/M, Patroklus is Baby, that’s it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:47:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22564225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawboy1983/pseuds/florence
Summary: A retelling of Patroklus’ death from Book XVI of The Iliad, heavily inspired by The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller.
Relationships: Achilles & Patroclus (Song of Achilles), Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	The Greater Grief

**Author's Note:**

> “And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone.”  
> The Song of Achilles

Every day the Trojans, led by Hektor, gained more ground. From the Myrmidon encampment at the far side of the beach, we could hear the clashing of brass spears with shields. The torches held by Hektor and his men only added to the blinding reflections of the sun on armor and white sand. Ajax was atop the biggest ship waving his shield and wielding his spear. Above all, his voice was heard roaring ragged yells of warning to the Trojans, and his strong stature and red armor spoke for themselves. I turned my back on that blinding, deafening world and made my way swiftly to Achilles’ shelter. I felt tears run down my face as I recalled in flashes the familiar faces I saw in the healer’s tent. Faces contorted with pain, made ugly with blood and unrecognizable with dirt. I helped for as long as I could. Knowing that Machaon himself was wounded, I could not leave without helping, but I knew I could help with more than just tending wounds. Nestor’s story had moved me to action, made me realize what power I had over Achilles and how I could use that. Achilles walked out of his quarters before I reached the doors. He noticed the tears running freely down my face. Although his words sounded mocking, I had known him since we were boys and his expression was sincere, concerned. His creased brows asked “what bad news do you have of the battle?” and “who has died now?” as if he could not hear the slaughter from his own bed.

The armor was made for a bigger man than I and hung loosely on my shoulders. Achilles handed me his spear gingerly, not expecting me to be able to use it, and I handed it back to him almost immediately. The curve of his fingers fit it perfectly, the balance adjusting to him. In my hands, it was just a stick that was too heavy to carry. As Automedon readied the horses and chariot, Achilles fiddled with the greaves and chest plate of my armor.

“ Do not forget everything I taught you.” He joked.

I replied that I would not even need to fight well, my armor and helmet were supposed to be my weapons. I could see the tightness in his eyes, the uneasiness of sending me to battle without his protection, without his swiftness, his godliness. I thought of his last words to me, the idea of the two of us alone breaking through the walls of Troy.

When our ships had first tasted the beaches of Ilion and we feasted on the shore, Phoinox pointed out the wall to me. From the distance, and in the smoke of the fires, I could barely see it. The wall seemed a tiny thing, a castle for bugs.

My head was dizzy with success: I had killed a son of Zeus, but I felt the favor leaving me. Three times my feet found purchase in the sand colored stone of Ilion’s wall. Three times I was pushed down, the air knocked out of my chest as I hit the dust. I headed back into the clamorous slaughter.

I held the feet of a corpse in my arms, pulling against the power of Hektor’s strength. I killed twenty-seven men and eighteen more before I felt the world slow down. I was looking Hektor in the eyes, he was my focus. I had killed a son of Zeus, but I wanted nothing more than to kill this man who was responsible for so many of my companion’s deaths. I felt pulled to him from across the field of living men and corpses, but I was struck down unfairly. My head spun with the force of the blow, stronger than a mortal’s hand. The terrible helmet of Achilles rolled in the dust and I could not take my eyes off of it to see my opponent, as if nothing else mattered, not even my own mortality, except that immortal armor of Achilles defiled. The next blow I saw coming, from the young Euphorbos, a coward who ran from facing me, ripping his spear from my body and taking it with him. The third blow brought me to my knees and as I looked up at Hektor’s face above me I realized I had never seen him so close before. He was smaller than Achilles and his face was wrought with lines in a way that Achilles’ would never be. There was death surrounding me and he was implicated in it. The spear inside me spoke to who Hektor’s killer would be-- the man waiting for me at the far end of the beach--who told me not to venture to the wall for fear of the very thing that was happening. I thought of Achilles as the darkness closed in on me, and again when I woke up, somehow less than myself.


End file.
